The Worst Day
by Shinigami29
Summary: The worst day of the year... this is the day that's cursed. Everything bad happens on this day. Murder, rape, and even a distant memory of breaking three limbs in one try...


**The Worst Day**

Exactly three years. It had been exactly three years since her parents had been murdered by the hands of Voldemort. That had been in her fourth year.

A year now since she had that 'accident' and had to go home. She didn't care what the phyciatrist thought, a baby out of rape doesn't deserve to live. A baby out of rape wasn't a baby of love, but of hate. A baby of rape doesn't deserve to live.

This day she had dubbed the worst day of the year. It was an on going curse, that everything bad happened to her on this day. It didn't matter how many years ago it had happened. She distantly remembered breaking both her arms and a leg this time of year... it must of been the same day.

And now? Just mere minutes earlier, the love of her life had called her a filty whore and that he never wanted to see her again. He left her crying out by the lake alone...

"Hello?" someone called, breaking her out of her revine. She looked quickly to see the flaming locks that could only belong to one of the Weasely's... "Anyone here?"

_'Just when I thought my day couldn't get any worse,' _ she thought. _'Weasely comes to rub it in my face. Perfect.'_

"Hello!" she watched him as he absently looked around, not seeing her hidden in the shadows of the weeping willow... at least, not until he tripped over one of the roots by her feet. She couldn't help but giggle, and he looked up at her with a glare. "Sure, laugh it up."

"Sorry," she smiled warily. He looked at her like a fish out of water. "What?"

"Y-you..." finding his way to a seated possition, he backed away from her slightly. "You said 'sorry'! Slytherin's don't know that word!"

"Obviously we do," looking away from him, she watched the sky fall into night. "What are you doing here, Weasel?"

"I was just out for a walk," he said defensively. "When I heard someone crying. S'not healthy for anyone to cry out in the freezing cold."

"It's quiet warm," she snapped at him.

"It won't be in half an hour or so."

"Who said I was going to be out that long?"

"You were crying," he said it as if it were obvious, before following her gaze. "What are ya looking at?"

"Why are you talking to me?" she asked instead.

"And now your changing the subject," he chuckled.

"And your changing it again," she countered. "So answer my question and I'll answer your's. Why are you talking to me?" She watched him shrug from the corner of her eye.

"No one should be left crying," he muttered. "It's... how people end up cold hearted and unfeeling like you Slytherin's."

"So now I'm cold hearted and unfeeling?" she turned to look at him, glaring daggars.

"Actually... no," he managed a smile. "You're... different, I've noticed. You don't tease other people as much, and hell, I've seen you hang out with Ravenclaws and the lot in the library."

"Are you spying on me?" her glare intensified and he raised his hands in defeat.

"No," he promised. "Just what I've noticed when I happened to be around. Now... what were you looking at?"

"The sky," she turned back to it, determinded to ignore him.

"And why were you looking at the sky?"

"None of your business."

"Either tell me that or tell me what Malfoy said to get you so worked up."

Her entire body tensed up at the mention of Draco. She pulled her knees to her chest and bit back the tears, trying to calm the shaking in her shoulders... she nearly jumped when she felt a strong arm drap over said shoulders, rubbing at her arm.

"What are you doing, Weasely?" she hissed, hoping that her voice hadn't cracked.

"We graduate in a few months, right?" he muttered, moving so that he sat behind her. "And when we graduate, I will no longer be a Gryffindor, and you will no longer me a Slytherin. Why hold a grudge against someone who may actually make a good friend?"

"That's very sentimental of you," she muttered. "Sure that Granger didn't write it down for you and you just had to mesmorise it? What are you trying to do Weasely? Get in my pants?"

"No," she felt his chin glid down her cheek and rest on her shoulder. "Hermione and I broke up this morning... didn't you know we were going out? Anyways, she's pissed at me at the moment, so wouldn't help me with anything. If I wanted to get in your pants, I would be on my own."

"So you admit it?" she chuckled.

"I said if," he pointed out. "Not that I was. Now... what are we looking at?"

"We?"

"Yes, we," his arms wound around her own, fingers intwining in each other...

"The moon'll rise soon," she whispered. "It's breathe taking."

"Sure, sure..." he chuckled. "No offence or nothing, because I'm sure it's great, but I don't find it that breathe taking."

"That's because your a moronic Gryffindor boy," she replied sharply.

"I was thinking more along the lines that I had witnessed a werewolf transform," he amended. "After that you loose a lot of interest in the moon and stars and what not. Much safer in the daylight."

"True," she untangled herself from him, only to turn around with a smile. "But dark deeds should be preformed in the dark of night."

"I have flamboyant red hair," he drawled out. "Nothing, I repeat, _nothing,_ about me is dark."

"Why did you break up with Granger?" she asked. He blinked in confusion.

"Her and I talked about it," he answered. "You know, getting down to all the logical reasons and what not that Hermione always does. She says that I'm obviously thunderstuck about someone else, then ran off crying before I could come up with a decent response."

"You liked someone else while you were dating Granger?" she laughed. "How stupid can you get!"

"Sod off," he glared. "Well? Why did Malfoy leave you here?" He waited with his arms crossed for an answer, until she had to look away. "Well?"

"He broke up with me," she answered slowly, bitting her tongue.

"What?" he blinked. "Why would he do that?"

"Why do you care!?" she snapped.

"You're a potential friend, remember?"

"Must I be?" she looked back up at him, tears in her eyes. "I mean, why are you doing this? How are you going to be my friend? In the dark of the night underneath this willow tree?"

"Sure, why not?" he grinned sheepishly. "As you said... dark deeds should be preformed in the dark of the night."

"Nothing is dark about you," she replied. He chuckled, and fell onto his back, looking up at the branches of the tree.

"He left me because he didn't love me," she answered at a length, causing him to jump. He had gotten used to the silence. "He left me because he didn't want to date a bitch or a whore, or some ugly, two faced maggot..."

"Bitch, sometimes," he muttered, pushing himself up with his elbows. "No offence or nothing, but it's one of the Slytherin traits that you have to be a cold hearted bitch at times. A whore... well, if the rumours were true last year, then... hell, I don't know. Ugly, two faced maggot? That is deffinately not true. He must of been looking in a mirrow when he said that." She only laughed, and he smiled.

"What were the rumours?" she finally asked. She knew what they were, but she wanted to hear him say it... he looked away, the tips of his ears turning red. "Well?"

"You know..." he muttered. "When you went home that one time... people were saying that you got... well... pregnate. And people can only, well, um..."

"You think that I had unsafe sex with a bunch of guys then got pregnate?" she asked. His blush grew, covering his and creeping down his neck. She was left to wonder just how far that blush went... "No, I didn't."

"So why did you go home?" he asked, a little calmer then before.

"I got pregnate," she answered. "That much was true."

"But, how?" he blinked in confusion. She looked away again, staring at the roots of the willow. "Oh... oh. Shit!" She jumped, shocked at his sudden anger, and looked up at his now beat-red face. "What kind of lowly scum would do that to another person!?"

"Don't worry about it," she smiled warily. "I'm fine now. See?" She pushed herself to her feet and did a slow turn so that he could see her, before sitting back down. "No harm done."

"Right... and I'm supposed to believe that?" he asked. "That that didn't harm you, at all? I'm pretty sure it did. Your just hidding behind one of those damn Slytherin mask things."

"Maybe," she shrugged. "But it doesn't matter, does it?"

"No, I guess not," he sighed, and laid back down on the grass. "Cold yet?" For the first time she noticed the cold, and shivering, she nodded. "Then get down here." She sat there, confused, until he tugged on her arm, getting her to lay down beside him.

"If I didn't know better," she responded to this. "I would say you wanted to get into my pants." He didn't respond. "Weasely?" He turned to look at her, and she flattened herself onto her back. "Weasely?"

"Ron," he amended. "Call me Ron."

"Ron," it flowed easily over her tongue. She looked up at him. "What are you doing... Ron?" He didn't answer, just looked at her under half lidded eyes. It seemed to her that the space between them was slowly deminishing away to nothing...

And indeed it was.

The first time his lips brushed against her's, she was shocked beyond reason, but the second time, she allowed her eyes to slip shut. The third was a little deeper, a little closer, a little needing...

It continued like that, for what seemed like hours, until lungs were burning for air so needed to survive, and warily they pulled away from each other. He laid there, next to her, breathing hard. Cinnamin eyes flickered with something she couldn't put her finger on... before he scrambled to a stand, running his hand through his hair.

"Shit, shit, shit..." he mumbled to himself, before looking back down at her. "I'm sorry... I'm really, reallly sorry." He continued to gaze at her for an eternity or more, before turning and running back to the front doors of the castle...

She sat up and watched him, a finger running across bruised lips.

Okay... so maybe this wasn't the worst day of the year after all...

_-Owari_


End file.
